


Sigrid plays with her food.

by Puluhuzi



Category: Wargroove
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Sexual Content, Vampires, it's risque but not smut, the blood drinking WILL be consensual but the dancing will not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21679936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puluhuzi/pseuds/Puluhuzi
Summary: AU where Mercia gets captured during "Lord of the dead" so Sigrid has to adapt her plan accordingly.
Relationships: Mercia/Sigrid
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Aperitif

**Author's Note:**

> This basically the prologue chapter, a first meeting.  
> (THIS FIC DOES HAVE SPOILERS IN IT IF YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED THE CAMPAIGN.)

Mercia had been overconfident, that was her downfall. When Armies of undead had poured into Cherrystone, and quickly overwhelmed much of the border forces that kept watch over the little villages and hamlets at the edge of the kingdom, the roads that weren't clogged with the undead saw many fleeing peasants. And now Mercia was making her stand to give Emeric and Caesar a chance to lead the refugees to safety.

This would be the first large scale confrontation between the forces of Felheim and Cherrystone, Mercia's army had taken position at a wide pass, just in front of one of the main turnpikes where civilians were trickling north. 

As the far side of the valley began to darken with the pale flesh of the undead, Mercia saw her men beginning to grow restless, the dread lord of Felheim was rumored to be with them, raising his fallen enemies as more cannon fodder for his army. A scary thought, but Mercia was ready for him, months of crash course training had built up her righteous anger. She and her soldiers may have been outnumbered, but they were better trained and better armed, when their armies met, she intended to lead the charge in and smash her way to Valder himself.

The first waves of skeletons had already crashed on their spears when the King of Felheim finally did made his appearance, it took a moment for Mercia to register him. His dress was simple, the patterned robe and animal skull spoke more of a wildling than a King. And he was shorter than she expected.

He walked on the ground with his soldiers, surrounded by skeletons which Mercia noted appeared to be better armed and armored than their fellows, and they were coming closer.

Her forces had been holding steadily. But now she made the order to move to push forward.

Adrenaline buzzed in her ears as they cut through line and line of skeletons, though they made disappointingly little progress. With Valders' arrival on the field, the undead seemed to be increasing exponentially in number, for every skeleton they cut down, a new one rose to take their place. just barely keeping them from breaking through their front to Valder. Mercia was too focused to consider a retreat, even as her sword grew heavy in her arms. And had it not been for a lieutenant calling out to her, she wouldn’t have even noticed something was wrong.

She turned, one of her men was pointing emphatically to the distance, and following the arc of his finger to their distant flank, saw that a side path which had been neatly bottlenecked when the battle started was being overrun. Already skeletons were breaking through, and on a direct course for some of the final refugees and the back of her army.

The choice was made for her, her army began to falter, some even broke rank to run to protect the caravan. But Mercia refused to accept defeat. She sliced and hacked and yelled encouragement to the few men still close to her, raising her sword in the air to guide them to victory.

But no amount of heroism could stem the tide, and as her rage congealed into a fear, On all sides she and a small pocket of men had found themselves surrounded. Chattering skeletons keeping them boxed in. As the battle wound down, The ring parted, and flanked by guards on either side, Valder himself finally approached Mercia.

  
"Lay down your sword young Queen, or have the blood of more of your countrymen on your conscience." He raised his arms to gesture to her men.

  
Her knuckles went pale as she clutched the Cherryblade.

  
Tears stung at her eyes, her fury mixed with the bitter taste of failure. Her father would remain unavenged, her kingdom in the hands of a tyrant. She desperately wanted to charge at Valder, But she couldn’t avenge anyone if she was dead. And she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she couldn't save at least some of her men.

  
Head held low, she dropped her blade. It was quickly confiscated by a nearby skeleton, who returned to Valders side.  
With the capture of their Queen, the army of Cherrystone shattered. She saw most of the main force had surrendered with her capture, though some stranglers were still running, trying to escape while they could, She noted with a small hint of pride that she at least seemed to have provided enough of a distraction for the refugees to escape, and Emeric and Ceasar would be with them.

As soon as Mercia and the other prisoners were bound and gathered, Valder left to survey the scene. Leaving the march back to the Felheim forward base to Ragna. Who seemed disappointed to not have been on the front line, but perked up as soon as she spotted Mercia, lording their victory over her, and leading to much eye rolling from the Queen.

They arrived at the partially ruined fortress by late evening, a stockade had been erected to hold most of the prisoners, but Mercia was separated from her men and put in a solitary cell. The fate of her people weighed on her mind for the remainder of the day, as she watched the evening sun slowly crest into the horizon, wondering what fate awaited her.

Before the moon had begun to rise, guards finally came for her. She was forced to walk with them, but pestered them with questions like "Where are we going?" and "Where's Valder?". They marched back through some of the halls she'd come through earlier, before diverting to a long hallway ending in a set of double doors. though Before they entered, one of the guards chattered to the other in it's skeletal language. Mercia tried to ask what they were talking about, but one of them reached over Mercia's head, gagging her with more rope, before pushing open the doors to a large, stone room.

Seated on a throne of pale wood was Valder, and standing next to him at a long table was Ragna, conferring with several skeletons and humans. He watched the proceedings in silent contemplation. Mercia was Brought to a chair to Valders other side, She glared at him as she was hustled past him. But once she was secure he paid her no attention.

She tried to focus on freeing her arms, keeping a careful eye on her surroundings for any openings, but the guards stayed right next to her, and the knots were to well tied. She switched to trying to biting through the gag to get in a few good snipes at Valder, but after making little progress, she paused, a shiver ran up her spine as the temperature seemed to drop several degrees in just a moment.

At first she thought someone must have opened a window, but as she looked up and scanned the room, she saw the large doors had somehow been soundlessly opened, and someone was approaching the throne. though approach wasn't quite accurate, They seemed to glide along the floor with their deliberate strides.

  
She was pale, her white skin accentuating the shadows that seemed to cling to her, her long hair and fur cloak flowed unnaturally around her. As she passed the table, and into the torchlight, Mercia got a good look at her face, a button nose and long ears contrasting with her most striking feature. Tired eyes that reminded Mercia of an approaching storm, the stranger seemed to sense her gaze, they made eye contact for just a moment, and she flashed Mercia with much the same expression as one would make at a bug climbing to their pant leg.

  
Mercia had only a vague Idea of who Sigrid was, having heard of Valders alliance with the vampires.

She was shorter than Mercia had expected.

  
“Valder." she said in a surprisingly soft voice as she stopped in front of the throne. "I hope victory finds you well.” 

“We have not won yet, they will bring more armies to bear." 

"Then they will join their Queen soon enough." She gestured to Mercia. 

“The Queen will answer for her crimes, tomorrow she will be tried, and if found guilty, executed.”

Crimes? Mercia began to feel nervous, not helped by Ragna perking up at the mention of an execution.

"A trial? **TRIAL BY COMBAT?** " before she could finish the thought, Valder turned to glare at the patchwork girl.

As he did so, Sigrid's expression hardened for just a moment.

"My lord, there's no need to execute her, even if some come crawling back to rescue her, we've already broken their army and their leader, besides, I doubt they would dare directly attack us while we have their Queen held hostage, imagine the tactical advantage."

Valder steepled his fingers as he considered his options.

"The Queen must face judgement, the world must understand that are not a people to be trifled with anymore."

"And She will. But we gain nothing by making a martyr, as much as I'd enjoy razing this country to the ground, we need to think of the future. I'll make sure she isn't going _anywhere_."

Valder was annoyed to be talked back too. But he seemed to consider her argument.

"Very well, return to Felheim with the Queen and her generals, Sigrid.”

“What?” Sigrid gasped. Standing, and slightly levitating from her chair.  
“What?” Mercia tried to gasp through her gag. She would have stood if she could.

"aww."Ragna looked disappointed.

Sigrid stiffened. And from her position, Mercia caught the briefest glint of that same look she’d earlier.

“Why would I return to Felheim when we’re already so close to total victory here?”

“The mage and the royal pet escaped, along with enough men to become a nuisance in the future. I need someone I can trust to guard her and our homeland.”

Sigrid sneered at this.

"Then I'll kill them myself. They pose no threat."

“They will find allies, they will flee through the Gloomwood, and most likely seek aid from the empress of Heavensong. We need someone in Felheim who can manage our defense should she agree to come to their aid. And to watch the Queen until she can answer for her crimes.”

  
Mercia still felt indignant about being referred to as a criminal.

Especially coming from Valder of all people.

Before Sigrid had a chance to say anything more, Valder sat up in a way that very clearly communiated 'I have made up my mind.'

“Do you understand Sigrid?”

Sigrid huffed for a moment, but offered a small bow.

“Of course, Valder, I’ll return immediately with the Queen in toe.”

She turned to face Mercia, stalking over to her chair like a shark.

“I suppose we’ll be getting to know each other quite well, young Queen.”

Her expression made Mercia's skin crawl.

Mercia had a creeping feeling she may have preferred the execution.

  
  



	2. Entree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid makes her move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god writing drama is harder than I realized. On the bright side the worst of it is over now, so I can move on to writing the softcore vampire fluff that was always leading too.

The journey back to Felheim was quick, The channel that separated Cherrystone and Felheim provided little time for Sigrid to work out her frustration. Valder was a fool for sending her away, she would have struck anyone else down where they stood for such insolence, but she had to think quickly when he suggested executing the queen, and Sigrid was patient. She’d waited this long for her plans to come to fruition. It was less than ideal to be sailing in the opposite direction of the Key, but now that she had Mercia, and Valder would be distracted on the front lines. She had all the time she needed to pry Mercia’s secrets from her.

Besides, she would need the fell gauntlet, and thus Valder, for just a while longer. she wouldn't have the manpower (skeletonpower?) she needed to sweep Cherrystone for the key on her own. And as self important as he was, she knew she couldn’t trust any of her own underlings to keep the armies of Cherrystone busy.

Despite these rationalizations, her blood was still boiling the whole trip. He had *ordered* her to leave Mercia untouched, ordered Her! He was fortunate she needed the queen alive. Sigrid was relishing the chance to take out her frustration on the young queen. She hadn’t had enough time to toy with her father before making her escape. And even if she couldn’t harm her directly, there was more than one way to crack a queen.

Mercia was already making a nuisance of herself, refusing rations to feed her men, and generally being obstinate toward her captors. Everything about her irked Sigrid, and she’d avoided going to the holds personally until she was ready to deal with Mercia herself.

As her ships made their way onto the last fjord separating them from their destination, Sigrid breathed a sigh of relief to be home.

The castle was technically older than Sigrid herself, though over the many years, much of it had had to be replaced, and expanded upon. It’s dark shape stood out against the fog like an ink stain on bleached parchment.

A small party waited for them on the shore, wagons ready to take the prisoners off the ships. And a carriage for Sigrid herself.

Having had nothing but time to think about it, she knew exactly where she wanted to put Mercia.

-

Mercia almost felt as if she was a princess in a story, waiting for rescue. She had been trapped in one of the tallest towers (though not, she noted, the tallest.) of a castle.

Far from home, hopefully with rescue on the way, though she knew a knight in shining armor was unlikely at this point.

Her accommodation were spartan, but not unpleasant. The bed was musty and cold, with too few blankets, and the books that filled the one dusty bookshelf were moldering and had probably been just as boring now as when they were first published.

The worst thing was the food. Tasteless gruel, boiled scraps of tough meat, and vegetables which never seemed fresh enough for Mercia’s taste. She wasn’t going to starve, at least not quickly. She missed the warm halls of Castle Cherrystone, and the hearty meals. And most of all she missed her family. Emeric, Ceasar, especially her father.

It had only seemed to have been a few days since her imprisonment, but already the loneliness was gnawing at her. Since being removed from the ship, she hadn’t seen another person. Living or dead, whenever she went to sleep, a morsel of scraps would be waiting for her, and when she finished, she’d leave out the bowel or plate near the door, but never saw anyone take them.

She’d try staying awake all night to catch her custodian, but instead she simply received no rations for the day.

Mercia had been expecting this to be another grey day in Felheim, in order to keep herself distracted she’d began developing elaborate fantasies of what she could do to escape with her men, setting up imaginary castles with the old books and making tiny soldiers from whatever objects she had on hand. But she was roused from her games by, at first she had no idea what it could be.

A knock? that was a first. she rose from the floor and slowly approached the door, before her hand could make contact, it swung open, a gale of wind forcing her back, and throwing something in her face, which hit with an unassuming “thwap”.

A letter, she realized as it fell into her hands. She peeled it open, revealing fine letterhead, and below that, a very simple message. “Wear this”.

She looked up, the door had somehow closed silently. But in front of it was a large package.

-

Sigrid was positively electric with anticipation, she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed playing with her food after so long of being unchallenged. 

The hall was massive, the stone walls seemed to absorb the light from the raging fireplace, which framed the long table laden with food, *real* food.

The table had been set to her exact specifications, and even her chair had been oh so perfectly positioned as to make her appear ominous in the firelight. With any luck (not that she needed any) Mercia would be begging for mercy in less than an hour.

The telltale sound of shoe-on-stone made her ears perk up, Sigrid dawned her best faux smile and magnanimous demeanor.

-

“Welcome Queen Mercia.” She spread her hands. “Please, join me for dinner.”

Mercia did not acknowledge the greeting. The dress she’d been given was chafing her already, not to mention the fact she’d been wearing it since this morning, not having had any idea when she’d be summoned. She was grateful Felheim court fashion seemed much more reserved than the large dresses favored in Cherrystone, which Mercia had never been fond of. When her door creaked open, she wasn’t entirely convinced it wouldn’t be some kind of trap. And after making her way down the long staircase and finding herself here. She was even more sure that this was all meant to lure her into a false sense of security.

Sigrid watched silently as Mercia approached the table, eventually taking the seat on the opposite end from Sigrid.

“Thank you. But no thank you.” Mercia said very curtly.

“Poisoning you would be a waste of my time, especially having spent so much to get you here.”

Mercia let more awkward silence fill the room. But Sigrid made a good point, and The presence of actual food was beginning to erode her resolve.

She promptly grabbed the glass next to her and raised it to her lips. And after a quick sniff, drained the whole thing in a few gulps.

A servant who’d been instructed to stand very still until now rose to refill it, a servant Sigrid has specifically chosen from the prisoners.

Sigrid saw exactly what she wanted, a brief flash of recognition, followed by Mercia very unsubtley trying to whisper to him as he refilled her glass. She knew this would knock Mercia through a loop. She’d be dying to ask him about the rest of her men. But Sigrid wouldn’t let her.

“Do try the appetizer.” Sigrid projected her voice so as to cut off Mercia’s conversation.

The man suddenly backed off, fearful of the tone Sigrid had used.

“How have you found your stay in Felheim so far?”

“It could do with a better tour.”

“Hm” she nodded as if she was considering it. “I’ll be sure to include that next time we have guests.”

Sigrid raised the cover on her tray, revealing a small pie.

“Blood pie, one of the few dishes Felheim can claim to make better than anyone else.”

Mercia watched as Sigrid dug her fork and knife into the crust, carefully cutting a small piece of what appeared to be dark filling for herself, which Sigrid made a show of relishing.

Merica knew she had to play along. But if she was going to play Sigrids game she at least wanted some information.

“How is the war going? Will I get to return home soon?”

“The war is far from here. Enjoy your meal while you can.”

Mercia felt her own stomach rumble, she finally reached for her own platter. Revealing another small pie much Like Sigrids.

“What.. is it?”

“Relax, it’s pigs blood.”

Her hunger meant she payed no heed to the etiquette lessons she’d had drilled into her. She raised her utensils and cut into the pie.

Instantly a crimson rivulet pooled around the knife, hitting Mercia with the scent of mild rot.

Sigrid chuckled.

“Oh dear, it appears to be slightly undercooked!”

Mercia pushed the plate away.

“Enough games, what do you want from me?”

“Oh my dear, I appreciate your forthrightness.”

Sigrid leaned forward in her seat, letting the candlelight illuminate her face.

“You see, the reason I called you down here, is that Cherrystone has something that I want. Something I know you can help me find.” She paused for just a moment to build the dramatic tension.

“Where is the Key?" The implied malice in her actions became very explicit in her tone.

"The.. Key?" Mercia struggled for a moment. "What key?"

"Do not toy with me, girl."

Merica felt as if the already sparse warmth was leaving the room.

"I know your father must have been oh so proud to share it’s secrets with you as soon as you came of age. "

Mercia felt her frustration begin to come to a head.

"Even if I did know what you were talking about, I wouldn't tell you!"

Before she could say more, she involuntarily froze as she made eye contact with Sigrid, who had begun to glow a sinister red.

She suddenly sat up with enough force to throw back her chair several feet. Making Mercia feel as though the distance between them was far too little.

“I bring you into my home as my first guest in years and this is how you thank me?”

Sigrid let her disdain for the girl spill out. This was it, she could see same fear in Mercia's eyes as she'd seen in hundreds before her.

Now was the time for her ace in the hole, the thing that was sure to bring Mercia to her knees.

She raised herself into the air, hovering above the table for just a moment to let the light accentuate her dark form.

“I suppose if you won’t be forthright, I can always get it out of you other ways...”

She raised her hand. And Mercia was too stunned to resist being pulled into the air until she was even with Sigrid.

“Such a shame, after all that training, all that tutoring and none of the common se-” Was all Sigrid could get out before being unceremoniously struck with the metal serving dish.

Mercia fell back into her chair as Sigrid whipped around to face her attacker, the servant who until just a moment ago had been cowering in the corner.

"INSOLENCE, I’LL RIP THE SOUL OUT OF YOUR CORPSE YOU WRETCHED FOOL!"

She focused all her rage into her voice. But he stood his ground, shakily raising his fists to Sigrid.

“Leave Queen Mercia alone you foul demon!” it didn’t sound nearly as threatening as he intended but it was enough to send Sigrid over the edge.

Her form began to dissolve as she turned into pure shadow.

“FOUL?! I HAVEN’T BEGUN TO SHOW YOU FOUL, LET THIS BE A LESSON!”

She didn’t bother with theatrics this time, she lifted him from where he stood until he was right in front of her. What remained of her mouth split wide as she prepared to drain his pitiful life force.

His resolve crumbled as he began to scream. He felt the pressure on his body increase exponentially and threaten to tear him apart.

Sigrid drew in close for the kill, perhaps this demonstration would loosen Mercia’s lips, but before Sigrid could drain him, the young queen peeled herself from where she’d fallen.

“WAIT! PLEASE-”

"PLEASE WHAT?!?" Sigrid cut her off.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL US?” “PLEASE SPARE MY MISERABLE EXISTENCE?” “YOU MORTALS ARE ALL THE SAME, AND NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO, YOU’LL DIE LIKE THE REST OF YOUR KIND!”

She paused for a moment, allowing her form to stabilize slightly and reminding herself that she was still in control, this was still going according to plan, in a way. As she slowly crushed the mans body with her power, she turned back to Mercia.

“You know, if you won’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll enjoy doing this to your court mage. Once I’m done wringing out all his secrets. He’ll be begging me for this.”

Mercia felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes. Her whole body felt unnaturally cold. She wanted to break Sigrid's grip on her. but the fear was overwhelming. She felt frozen, both literally and figuratively. But the thought of Emeric was enough to drive her forward. She wouldn’t let Sigrid do this to him, or anyone else if she could help it. She tried to peel herself from her seat.

Her pitiful show of defiance made Sigrid grimace with the same expression as if she was looking at a bug crawling toward her food.

She turned back her meal. Admiring how quickly he’d been reduced to a screaming mess, as his body was beginning to reach it’s breaking point, she felt the exquisite sensation of his life flowing out of his body.

but before she’d had even a small portion of his life force, she was struck yet again, this time by a projectile which fell to the floor with a sharp crack.

Sigrid looked down, the glass Mercia had drained earlier lay shattered on the ground. She felt the rage she was suppressing come back with full force.

She slammed the man down with enough force to drive the consciousness from him. She wouldn’t take this humiliation in her own home.

"YOU COW, I’LL MAKE YOU BOTH SUFFER MORE THAN YOU THOUGHT POSSIBLE FOR THAT!"

Mercia couldn't bring herself to look at the monster before her, but when she spoke, her voice contained a steel that Sigrid hadn't heard in years.

"If you want him, you'll have to kill me first."

She snarled at Mercia, rage fueled energy crackled off her form. Shadows pulled from the corner of the room as she gathered her power, tendrils of shadow reaching for Mercia and the now unconscious man. No more civility, she would make Mercia regret being born.

But before she had her chance to force Mercia to watch her slowly drain the life out everyone she’d ever loved, Mercia reached into her tunic, shuffling for a moment before drawing a fork.

Sigrid chuckled with the sound of embers dying in a fireplace.

“Do you plan to stop me with that!?”

"You need me!” Mercia’s voice was racked with fear, she dared not look at Sigrid, but spoke with as much bravado as she could muster.

“I... I can help you find the key! Emeric doesn’t know anything! So I’m you’re only hope!” She hoped her fear masked the lie. She couldn’t stop her voice from shaking, but maybe that was an advantage here.

“But if you harm any of my men! I’ll make sure you never find it!”

She pressed the fork against her own neck. Drawing a thin trail of blood along with it.

“Besides! How would Valder feel about you harming his precious prisoner?”

Sigrid's chuckle turned into a full laugh, sharp and just as ugly as her smile. She hadn’t had anyone stand up to her like this in years. She almost respected it.

“Very brave, young Queen.” her shadowy form circled around Mercia and the man like a shark smelling blood.

“But am I to leave his insolence unpunished? In my own home?”

“Take me instead! I may not know much about vampires but I know you can subsist on me alone!”

Sigrid stopped in her tracks. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Mercia was supposed to be a quivering mess right now. She should be begging Sigrid to spare her. But even if her plan hadn’t worked. This might still be to her advantage. As long as she had leverage over the young queen.

The seconds pause was enough for Mercia to stammer out more.

“He was just defending me! I’m who you want.”

Sigrid considered while she continued to circle Mercia. Eventually coming to a stop in front of her as her body reformed.

“Are you sure you’re prepared for the consequences?”

“Try me.” Mercia finally regained enough of her steel to make eye contact with Sigrid, she raised her fork again as if to make her point.

Sigrid was actually impressed now, it had been hundreds of years since anyone, let alone two people had stood up to her like this. It made her angry, but it also made her curious.

“Very well.” Sigrid still felt her rage bubbling. But she would take the queens offer. She’d waited this long, a few more weeks were just a roadblock to her.

“I’ll be up to see you soon enough.” She turned and walked back to her seat at the other end of the table.

“I hope you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Sigrid dragged her finger across the table, exerting just enough force to fracture the wood.

  
  


“Make sure he’s alright.” Mercia pulled the fallen man off the floor and rested him on her former seat before crossing her arms.

“I suppose I can spare a doctor for him...”

Sigrid paused.

“You’ll find some more food waiting for you in your room.” 

If she was going to drain Merica, she at least wanted her to have some flavor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I realize that was a bit dark but also I don't think Sigrid is capable of healthy relationships (yet) so ya know.


End file.
